


A Pardon From Authority

by gwennolmarie



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Chair Sex, Christianity, Dom/sub, Frottage, Kinda, Kneeling, Lap Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, collaring, k i n d a, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 21:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17711828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/gwennolmarie
Summary: “Fold it and kneel on it.”“Hah,” Dutch huffs and tilts his head, “What?”Hosea doesn’t repeat himself.The older man sits with his hands relaxed on his thighs, he calmly observes Dutch.“You serious?” Dutch asks softly.He’d always teased the older man, if only to get a flush on those cheekbones, fully aware it was unlikely to come to fruition.Dutch swallows and slowly unrolls the bedroll, folds it into a square and sets it on the grass.Kneels.“Good,” Hosea murmurs.





	A Pardon From Authority

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/gifts).



Dutch finds comfort in being on his knees.

The pressures of being the face and leader of a group of outlaws takes its toll.

Hosea noticed, even in the beginning, that sometimes Dutch reached a limit.

Too full of too much guilt and worry and culpability.

Intense emotions brimming in the younger man to the point of rash decisions and sharp-tongued commands.

So Hosea brings him into their shared tent, asks him to sit and leans against the table.

Talks to him, soft and stern, makes the younger man aware of his actions, of the change in personality.

Dutch confesses to feeling uneasy like he is teetering on the edge of a cliff and an endless, black-water pool lays at the bottom.

“Do you trust me?” Hosea asks, voice deadpan-serious.

“What?” Dutch’s face screws up slightly, nose wrinkling, “Of course I do.”

There’s a pause that feels like a stilling of time, the two of them breathing evenly, silently in the soft lantern light.

“Ask me… Ask me to stop, and I will,” Hosea says gently.

Moves to stand in front of Dutch, grabbing the younger man’s hands and pulling him up, switching their places.

Hosea takes a seat in the sturdy, wooden chair.

“Get your bedroll,” Hosea commands.

It’s a different voice, smoother, the syllables enunciated, clear and concise.

Dutch lifts a brow, curious.

He plays along, retrieves his bedroll and comes back to stand a foot away from Hosea.

“Fold it and kneel on it.”

“Hah,” Dutch huffs and tilts his head, “What?”

Hosea doesn’t repeat himself.

The older man sits with his hands relaxed on his thighs, he calmly observes Dutch.

“You serious?” Dutch asks softly.

He’d always teased the older man, if only to get a flush on those cheekbones, fully aware it was unlikely to come to fruition.

Dutch swallows and slowly unrolls the bedroll, folds it into a square and sets it on the grass.

Kneels.

“Good,” Hosea murmurs.

Dutch fidgets for a moment then settles his hands in his lap, fingers interlocked.

“Before this, the gang, our partnership, everything… Did you get overwhelmed like this?”

“...Occasionally.”

“And what did you do to relieve those emotions?”

Dutch hesitates, fidgets again, with his hands, fingers twisting his rings.

“Dutch,” Hosea prompts softly.

“What every man does, Hosea,” Dutch mutters.

“ _Every_ man? Or men like us?”

“Like us?” Dutch asks, throat feeling too small.

Hosea smiles softly, reaches a hand forward to brush one of the escaping curls back into place.

“Those inclined to fall for other men,” Hosea murmurs.

“Oh,” Dutch says on an exhale, staring at the older man with wide eyes.

“So, yes? Like us?” Hosea asks, a touch amused.

“Yeah.”

Hosea hums and leans forward, fingers finding the highest actually-buttoned button of Dutch’s shirt.

Pops it open.

Dutch feels the cool brush of Hosea’s fingertips over his chest, nails barely grazing over the dark hairs.

He feels his heart rate starting an uphill climb.

The next button is freed.

And the next.

And the next.

Until his shirt is splayed open, exposing his chest and stomach.

The backs of Hosea’s fingers graze over his ribs, up over his pecs, ghosting over his nipples and reaching his collarbones.

The pad of the older man’s thumb strokes over the line of the bone.

Hosea pushes his fingertips under the shoulders of Dutch’s shirt and gently works the fabric down and off of the younger man’s arms.

Dutch brings his hands back to his lap when he’s freed of the button-down.

With the summer heat, and a crystal-clear creek nearby for washing, he found himself opting out of wearing an undershirt these days.

Providence, perhaps.

He inhales sharply when Hosea’s fingertips brush, purposefully this time, over his nipples.

The older man settles an elbow on his own knee, his chin on his fist as his other hand toys with the younger man’s chest.

Dutch’s fingers flex apart and curl back into fists as Hosea’s hand kneads around the side of his ribs and then moves up to the crook of his neck.

The older man’s thumb pushes up on Dutch’s jaw until the younger tilts his head back.

Dutch keeps his eyes on Hosea, as best he can, and sees the other man smile.

The fingers on his neck curl around to his nape and tangle into his hair.

Combing through the pomade-coated curls.

Hosea leans back.

“Come closer,” He says.

Dutch sucks in a breath and shuffles forward until he’s between the older man’s spread legs.

He flounders, for a moment, over where to put his hands.

Ultimately decides to place them, palms down, on the tops of Hosea’s upper thighs.

“You follow directions awful well for someone who’s usually giving them,” Hosea says.

Dutch has never heard the older man sound so _fond_.

“I guess it takes the right man for me to follow,” Dutch whispers.

Scared that if he speaks too loud it’ll end this moment.

Wake him from this dream.

Hosea’s hand returns to his hair, gently tugging and twisting the curls before cupping the back of Dutch’s neck.

“What do you want, Big Cat?” Hosea asks.

Dutch’s lips twitch in amusement at the nickname, used in private moments, far and few between.

Dutch glances at Hosea’s lap and then back up to the older man’s eyes.

“Can I… I want to see you,” Dutch says, hushed, “Touch you.”

“Wanna compare it to your dreams?”

Dutch chokes on an inhale and his eyes widen.

“You talk in your sleep,” Hosea explains.

“Damn,” Dutch huffs then bites his lip and glances away for a moment.

“Go ahead,” Hosea says and pulls away, resting against the back of the chair with his hands by his hips.

Dutch looks back up and shifts his weight forward until the sides of his ribs are caged by Hosea’s inner thighs.

He carefully undoes the laces holding Hosea’s pants closed then slips the buttons free on the man’s underwear.

His fingers curl around the older man’s length, lifting Hosea’s cock up as he rubs his thumb against the underside of the head.

Hosea’s forearms flex as the older man clenches his fists.

Dutch spits in his hand then strokes up and back to the base a few times before leaning in and pressing his lips to the blunt tip.

He looks up to meet Hosea’s eyes as he takes the older man into his mouth, tongue pressing against the flare of the exposed head.

He slides his mouth lower down the length and closes his eyes, index and thumb wrapped around the base while the rest of his fingers splay up Hosea’s abdomen, feeling the blonde curls against his palm.

Hosea lets out a soft groan and his legs gently squeeze against Dutch’s sides.

Dutch finds comfort, in pleasuring another.

In coaxing every hum and moan out of the older man.

In feeling both at Hosea’s mercy and like he’s holding the reins.

He sucks, only to pull off and press his lips to the slit.

He swallows around Hosea’s cock just to feel the little twitch of the older man, pushing further into his throat.

Hosea’s hand curls around his arm, pulls him off and up.

Urges him to straddle the older man’s lap.

Dutch flexes his feet to ghost his toes over the grass as he sits, shirtless, on Hosea’s thighs.

The older man’s spit-slick cock between them.

Hosea studies him then reaches behind his own neck to take off the gold chain.

Humble cross pendant sliding with the soft whirring of metal on metal.

Hosea clasps it around the younger man’s neck, fingers buried under Dutch’s hair.

Dutch blinks widely at the older man, hands settling on Hosea’s shoulders.

Hosea pulls him closer, by the chain, and presses their mouths together.

Traps Dutch’s lower lip with his teeth before soothing the bite with soft ghosts of his lips.

The fingers of his other hand free Dutch’s cock from the younger man’s pants.

He brings their lengths together and uses the shine of spit to ease the way as he rubs their cocks together.

Until Dutch is gasping against _his_ mouth.

Whispering _his_ name.

Begging _him_ for release.

“Hosea, good Lord. Hosea,  _please_ ,” Dutch hisses and presses their foreheads together.

Rolls his hips into the older man’s grasp, rocks his cock against Hosea’s.

“Shh,” Hosea hushes then murmurs, “You’re allowed. Go ahead.”

Dutch gasps and ducks his head, muffling a cry into the older man’s shoulder.

Hosea’s bitten-back groans into his temple have his hips canting forward regardless of the come dripping down the side of his cock.

Hosea’s hand flexes, squeezing around the bases of their lengths as the older man comes.

Dutch slumps against Hosea’s chest, his fingers curling into the fabric at Hosea’s shoulders.

Hosea holds him, soothes him with easy placations as the older man cleans them up and gets them into his cot.

He keeps Dutch in his arms, through the night.

Just one night, of no obligations for the younger man, just a break, a relief.

A temporary pardon from authority. 

**Author's Note:**

> happy very late bday Miso!
> 
> y'all can find me on tumblr @gwennolmarie


End file.
